Poems of WordsworthMacmillan, 1898 - 335 sidor |
Från bokens innehåll
Resultat 1-5 av 86
Sida ix
... pleasure of quoting a sentence about Shakspeare , which I met with by accident not long ago in the Correspondant , a French review which not a dozen English people , I suppose , look at . The writer is praising Shakspeare's prose . With ...
... pleasure of quoting a sentence about Shakspeare , which I met with by accident not long ago in the Correspondant , a French review which not a dozen English people , I suppose , look at . The writer is praising Shakspeare's prose . With ...
Sida xxv
... I am a Wordsworthian myself . I can read with pleasure and edification Peter Bell , and the whole series of Ecclesiastical Sonnets , and the address to Mr. Wilkin- son's spade , and even the Thanksgiving Ode ; -everything PREFACE . XXV.
... I am a Wordsworthian myself . I can read with pleasure and edification Peter Bell , and the whole series of Ecclesiastical Sonnets , and the address to Mr. Wilkin- son's spade , and even the Thanksgiving Ode ; -everything PREFACE . XXV.
Sida xxviii
... Pleasures . To my Sister • Lines written in early Spring Expostulation and Reply . The Tables turned To a Young Lady " O Nightingale , thou surely art " ' Strange Fits of Passion have I known ' " Three Years she grew " She dwelt among ...
... Pleasures . To my Sister • Lines written in early Spring Expostulation and Reply . The Tables turned To a Young Lady " O Nightingale , thou surely art " ' Strange Fits of Passion have I known ' " Three Years she grew " She dwelt among ...
Sida 8
... pleasures ran ; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore , Our pleasant home when Spring began , A long , long year before . A day it was when I could bear Some fond regrets to entertain ; With so much happiness to spare , I could not feel ...
... pleasures ran ; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore , Our pleasant home when Spring began , A long , long year before . A day it was when I could bear Some fond regrets to entertain ; With so much happiness to spare , I could not feel ...
Sida 9
... pleasures ran ; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore , Our pleasant home when Spring began , A long , long year before . A day it was when I could bear Some fond regrets to entertain ; With so much happiness to spare , I could not feel ...
... pleasures ran ; I thought of Kilve's delightful shore , Our pleasant home when Spring began , A long , long year before . A day it was when I could bear Some fond regrets to entertain ; With so much happiness to spare , I could not feel ...
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
Poems of Wordsworth (from Arnold's Selections) William Wordsworth Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1892 |
Vanliga ord och fraser
beauty behold beneath birds bowers breath bright brook BROUGHAM CASTLE Busk cheerful Child churchyard clouds Cottage dead dear delight door dost doth drawn thread earth Ennerdale evermore fair fancy fear feel fields flowers glad gone Grasmere grave green grief groves happy hath heard heart Heaven Helpmate hills hope hour human Kilve LEONARD Lesser Celandine lived lofty lonely look Lord Clifford Luke Lycoris mind morning mountain nature Nature's never o'er passed Pilewort pleasure Poets porringer praise PRIEST rays Workman rills rock round seemed seen shade Shepherd side sighs sight silent sing Skiddaw sleep song sorrow soul spirit Spring stars stone stood streams sunshine sweet tears thee thine things thou art thoughts Trajan trees turned Twill vale venturous brother voice wander wild wild Hunt wind woods Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 131 - I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Sida 130 - Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make ; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel - I feel it all.
Sida 131 - Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast : — Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized...
Sida 94 - The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Sida 3 - She had a rustic, woodlai.d air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Sida 129 - THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream. The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Sida 88 - I WANDERED lonely as a Cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden Daffodils ; Beside the Lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Sida 128 - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face...
Sida 6 - OFT I had heard of Lucy Gray ; And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary child. No mate, no comrade Lucy knew ; She dwelt on a wide moor, — The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door ! You yet may spy the fawn at play, The hare upon the green ; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. " To-night will be a stormy night — You to the town must go ; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow.
Sida 103 - The Solitary Reaper BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself ; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; 0 listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.